


Unbearable

by TaterChipGirl



Category: Pitch Black (2000)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaterChipGirl/pseuds/TaterChipGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a New Mecca plantation, a woman has rebuilt her life after losing everything that mattered to her. Who is she, and what happens when the past isn't what she thought it was?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harvest Season

**Author's Note:**

> First published August 31, 2002 on FanFiction.net.
> 
> I'm in the process of moving everything to AO3 from other archives.  
> The AO3 version is now the official version.  
> All versions posted on other archives are now obsolete.

"Okay, bring 'em in."

The woman spurred her horse forward to trot ahead of the advancing line of day laborers. It was just before sunrise, and she'd hired three hundred people for the final day of harvest. If things went well today, she could go home and relax for a few months until the next crop was ready.

She lifted her wide-brimmed hat and repositioned it, then turned to watch the line of men and women walking behind her. She brought her horse around to face the group of workers and held up her hand for them to stop.

"Okay, here's the drill." She raised her voice so they all could hear her. "We're starting early, so there's no rush. I'm more concerned with getting undamaged fruit than I am with speed. I want no bruising. Is that understood?"

The workers nodded.

"There are water outlets every twenty meters, so if you get thirsty, stop and take a drink. Remember, no rushing. If you hurry, you risk damaging the fruit. Just take your time and be careful."

She looked at her watch.

"You'll break for breakfast in an hour, and break for lunch four hours after that." She pointed to the opposite end of the field. "Portable bathrooms are over there, use 'em when you need to. And people?"

She held up her hand for attention. "I cannot stress enough the importance of not rushing this job. You'll get whatever you need to stay comfortable. Just take your time, and let one of the foremen know if you have a problem or your basket is full. Any questions?"

She scanned the workers once more - no one answered.

"Then let's get started."

Spurring her horse, she trotted off to the side to watch as her seven foremen led the large group of laborers into the field of short, thick, fruit-laden bushes.

There were those who said she was too easy on her people, what with the frequent water breaks, portable bathrooms and plentiful food, but she knew that happy workers meant unbruised fruit, which meant increased income and more time off for her.

Many of these people had worked here before, and made a point of showing up for every tanda harvest. They were always eager to work for someone who treated them well.

A few even lived on her land and tended the fields nearest to their homes in exchange for housing and protection - both good things to have on a colony world like New Mecca. Especially out here, away from the cities and settlements

The fruit was easy to grow and highly resistant to insects, weather and disease - the delicate part was the harvesting of it, something she'd learned the hard way during her first season here, after claiming the land four years ago. One partially rotted and unsellable crop had taught her what she needed to know. Her second season profits had been so much better, she'd hired extra workers to plant more fields, bought more portable stasis units, and the rest had fallen into place almost effortlessly.

Now she was the largest and most sought-after producer of tanda in this sector. Her logo, a planet circled by two rings and overlaid with her initials, was a familiar sight on many a produce shelf.

She surveyed the field again, watching individual workers as they carefully twisted the purple tanda fruit from the bushes and laid it tenderly into the baskets. Her foremen rode up and down the rows, now and then leaning down from their horses to speak to the workers. She'd hand-picked these four women and three men for their even temperaments. She'd never had to worry about any of them mistreating her crews, and all were well-rewarded for their patience.

Something in her peripheral vision caught her attention - a lone worker who'd stopped picking and was staring at her. She squinted at him, trying to figure out what made him seem so familiar. Maybe he'd been on one of her previous crews.

 _But I'd remember a guy like that,_ she mused. _He's big. Really big._

The man wore a large red bandana knotted over his head and tied at the nape of his neck. Big sunglasses covered his eyes, so she couldn't really see his face. His work shirt was sleeveless, revealing huge, powerful arms. With a start, she realized she'd been running her eyes over his body, and looked away quickly. Wouldn't do to be caught ogling a field worker.

 _Stop it,_ she told herself. She squared her shoulders and walked her horse to another section of the field.

_You're the boss - now act like one, dammit._

"Hannah." She motioned one of the foremen over. "You take charge here. I'm going back to the house," she said when Hannah was close enough to hear her. "Anything happens, you call me."

She tapped her ever-present earcomm.

"Right, boss." Hannah nodded and turned her horse back to the fields, her dark braids swinging over her shoulders as she rode.

The woman spurred her horse to a slow gallop and headed for the large, sprawling two-story house situated in the middle of her claim, about a kilometer from where she now rode.

She'd had it built from scratch using the reddish native stone after her abundant second-season harvest - no prefabs for her. She deserved a real home, especially after all her hard work, all the shit she'd been through. After all she'd lost...

She shuddered a little, remembering, and the pain stabbed through her, for a split second as fresh as the day they'd told her. The day her world had collapsed, and she'd sworn that nothing short of planetary catastrophe would ever get her off solid ground and onto another transport as long as she drew breath.

A firm kick made her horse pick up the pace. There was no time, no room in her life now for remembering. She had work to do, a business to run, and people to take care of.

The house loomed closer in the growing sunlight, and she could see the tiny figure of her head groomsman emerging from the stables a few hundred meters from the house.

She smiled and shook her head - Morrison was hard to miss, even at this distance. The Englishman's manners were impeccable, but his insistence on wearing his hair in a spiky red mohawk had barred him from employment in every other good stable he'd tried. However, once she'd seen how her horses responded to him, he was a shoo-in.

 _Their loss, my gain,_ she thought, watching as he moved towards the house to greet her and take her horse.

"Look like a bigger one this time," he said, nodding towards the busy fields when she reached him and dismounted. "Got your hands on some good plants, eh?"

"Yep - the best." She handed him the reins and headed for the front door. "Don't rub him down just yet," she called over her shoulder. "I might go back out later."

"Aye-aye, general." Morrison snapped her a funny little salute and began leading the horse away.

Laughing, she opened the door and took off her hat, hanging it in the entryway as she sniffed the air. Her cooks, Nina and Perry, were already busy preparing breakfast for the crew.

Her boots sounded noisily on the stone floor as she made her way to the kitchen, her stomach rumbling. The smell of fresh-baked bread and spices filled the house.

"Hey, boss." Nina looked up from a large pot she was stirring. "Guess you wanna get fed, huh?"

"No way," Perry snickered from his seat at the large wooden table, where he was slicing bread. "Look at her - she's way too fat."

He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, miming a grisly death, when his employer pointed an invisible pistol at him and pulled the trigger.

"You're fired," she grinned, lowering her slim figure into the chair across from him.

"Good morning," a deep voice boomed from the hallway. The speaker came into view a moment later, adjusting his turban. "I see the harvest has begun."

He breathed in deeply, savoring the aroma that filled the kitchen. "And I see that Nina has once again begun her temptation of the faithful."

Nina laughed and continued her stirring. "Hey, no one told you to come here during Ramadan."

"That is true," the Muslim agreed, sitting down beside his host. "But at sundown, I shall see for myself what I have missed during my fast."

Perry passed a plate full of warm bread slices to his employer. "There ya go, fatty. Eat up."

She made a face at him and took a bite of the bread, nodding her thanks as Nina set a cold pitcher of pandra tea on the table. Pouring herself a glass, she munched her bread and let her mind wander back to the fields.

The bushes she'd planted had yielded beyond her wildest expectations, and this year's profit would be nothing short of phenomenal, even after paying all her workers.

Maybe next harvest season, she could hand things over to Hannah, maybe take a vacation in the mountains. She'd always wanted to go. So had he.

 _Stop it,_ she told herself, closing her eyes. _Stop torturing yourself. He's gone, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it._

"Are you alright, child?" The Muslim placed a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, fine." She pushed her chair back and stood up. "I'll be back in a minute."

The others watched as she left the kitchen. When the sound of her boots had faded, they faced each other again with sober expressions.

"What is it, Abu?" Nina sat down in her employer's vacated chair with an exasperated sigh. "She gets like this every year, but she never talks about it." She threw up her hands. "I've tried asking her, but she won't tell me anything."

The Muslim looked down at the table and said nothing.

"C'mon, Abu," Perry pressed. "You've known her longer than anyone. Does this time of year remind her of something bad, or what?"

Abu sighed and sat silently for a moment before answering.

"Much has happened to her." His tone was that of a man trying to choose his words carefully, to not give away too much. "Much that was painful, and yes, this time of the year reminds her of it."

Nina nodded and studied Abu's face. "Were you there, Abu? Did you see what happened?"

"I saw... many things," he answered slowly. "Not all, but enough. And what I did not see, she has told me."

He looked up at the concerned faces before him. "But I cannot break her confidence. The life she knew before this is over. This is her life now. And you must never question her about her past again. It will only bring her pain."

Nina nodded again and got up to check her bubbling pot as Perry cleared his throat and spoke. "But isn't there anything we can do to make it better? Can't we help?"

Abu smiled sadly at the young man. "We can be here when we are needed. That is all." He looked down again at the table, his eyes misting a bit. "The only one who could truly ease her pain is... no longer with us."

He raised a warning finger when Perry opened his mouth to speak again. "Ask me nothing more - I have said too much already."

 

 

Alone in her second-floor bedroom, the woman sat down heavily at her desk and looked out the window. From here she could see the distant figures of the workers as they bent to harvest the fruit, and the foremen as they circulated among the plants on their horses.

By sunset it should all be done, the portable stasis units bearing her logo packed with fruit and on their way to the local markets and transport companies.

The workers would celebrate in the huge room downstairs she kept for just such occasions, drinking and dancing until the wee hours, then fading away to their homes or their next jobs on the morning transports.

She liked listening to them - it made her happy, if only for a short while. Sometimes she'd join them for a few drinks, maybe dance with Perry to the funky East Indian rock songs he liked so much. She wanted happy people around her, since she couldn't be one herself.

Especially not this time of year, when images of a faraway sunset plagued her dreams, and the sounds woke her in the night. They were only in her head, of course, but that made them no less real.

Abu came in from Mecca City and spent a few weeks every year about this time. She'd never asked him to, but then she really didn't have to. He just knew.

Sometimes the weeks would stretch into months, and that was okay with her. They spent many a night sitting wordlessly together on the porch, gazing out over her dark fields after the dreams had torn her screaming out of a sound sleep.

He brought her cold tea and held her hand when she cried. Sometimes he cried too, the tears running silently down his dark face, as he relived his own losses.

The dreams this time had been less of that desert place and more of another - a place of cold metal and reinforced windows almost too small to look through.

The place where she'd stood in silent shock as they gave her the news, their voices careless and casual over the tinny speaker, merely passing along facts as they waited for her to leave so they could get back to their daily routine.

When she'd finally found her voice, her screams had echoed off the metal walls, bouncing back to slap her in the face with their force. It had taken three large men to subdue her and carry her to the front of the building, where they left her crying on the sidewalk.

She'd pounded on the door, but it was securely locked, and they'd refused to buzz her back in. They were through with her, just as they were through with him.

Over. Done. Case closed. No further inquiries allowed.

Over and over, she awoke to the sound of slamming metal and her own screams. She raised her fists in her sleep to beat on the unresponsive door, calling out his name, telling them they had to be mistaken.

The woman rubbed her eyes and looked out the window again. For some reason, she couldn't forget about that big field worker, the one who'd stared at her. What was it about him that drew her attention?

She went back to the moment she'd first noticed him, and realized what it was - the arms. The man's arms looked just like...

 _No!_ She smacked herself hard on the forehead with the heel of her hand. _Don't even think his name, you know what that'll do to you._

Something nagged at the back of her mind - something she was supposed to do, something about the fields, or the fruit, or the workers...

_Ah, now I remember._

"Call Hannah," she told her earcomm, and waited until the foreman's voice answered.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Hannah, I'm gonna need a basket of fruit up here at the house. Nina's got some kind of dessert planned for tonight."

"Mmmmm..." Hannah's voice murmured. "Can't wait to sink my teeth into that."

"No kidding." Her employer gave a little laugh. "Listen, can you send one of the workers up here with a basketful? Make sure it's someone who won't trip over their own feet and screw up the fruit, okay?"

"You got it, boss." Hannah's voice paused. "Anything else?"

The woman thought for a moment. "No, that's it for now, thanks."

"'K, boss."

"End call." The woman listened to the earcomm's familiar double sign-off tone as she scanned the horizon.

_Looks like rain. Not close enough to be a threat, though. Good._

She got up and headed back downstairs, her emotions somewhat under control now. Conducting business always helped when it came to that. Maybe she'd busy herself with financial reports or something while she ate, keep her mind where it belonged.

Abu met her in the hallway as she walked back to the kitchen.

"Are you feeling better?" he whispered, touching her arm.

"Yeah." She nodded and shot a look down the hall towards the kitchen. "Just need to keep my mind busy, that's all." She gave him a weak, unconvincing smile. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

Patting Abu's shoulder, she left him and walked past the kitchen to her office, where she snagged her portable computer off the desk. All her business records were in it - she'd look things over, check for market updates while she finished her breakfast. That'd keep her head clear of all the crap.

The kitchen was empty when she got there. Nina and Perry had taken all the breakfast food to the big room where the workers were fed, the same room where they'd celebrate tonight after the harvest. She could hear them as they moved tables and benches and set out containers of clean flatware.

On the kitchen table was her plate of bread and a bowl of the cooked grain Nina had been making. Leaning closer, she saw that someone had drawn a smiley face on one of her bread slices with honey.

 _Perry, that goof,_ she thought with a smile. _Oughtta be a circus clown, that one._

She sat down and grabbed a spoon for her grain with one hand as she fired up her computer with the other. Before long, she was absorbed in last month's profit and loss reports, barely noticing when the front door opened and a strange male voice spoke to the two cooks as they prepared the dining room, asking the way to the kitchen.

She paid no attention to the heavy bootsteps approaching in the hallway, or the man who stopped in the kitchen doorway with a basket full of tanda fruit and waited for her to notice him.

The sound of polite throat-clearing made her jump, and her eyes flicked up just far enough to register a pair of male hands holding a basket.

_Wow, that was fast. And the fruit looks intact. Good deal._

"Yeah..." she said absently, her eyes going back to her computer screen. "Over there." She waved her spoon in the direction of the pantry, and the man walked over and set the basket gently on the floor.

A few moments passed before she realized that she hadn't yet heard him leave. She shot a look towards the pantry and noticed him still standing there, as if waiting for further instructions.

"Thanks, that's all," she looked back down at her computer. "You can go now."

The man didn't move.

_Maybe he's shy. Maybe he doesn't speak English._

She set her computer down and raised her head to look at the man's face.

_Holy shit. It's that big guy who was staring at me._

The man stood there, regarding her silently. His stillness was unnerving, almost predatory. And very, very familiar.

She was unable to speak for a moment, stunned by the shock of finding herself this close to him.

"Somethin' I can do for you?" she said when her voice started working again.

The man said nothing, just tilted his head to the side a little and let a tiny, sad-looking smile play across his face. When he finally spoke, his deep, gravelly voice was quiet, but the sound of it hit her like a hammer.

"Yeah. How 'bout a kiss?"


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An enigmatic field worker shows up at the house with a basket of fruit - and a revelation.

The woman's eyebrows shot up as her mouth fell open in disbelief. His words had had their desired effect.

 _Maybe that was too much, too soon,_ he thought. _Oh well - too late now._

The man stepped carefully towards her, his keen senses gauging her response. The woman was scared, but she was also stunned. Good - that would give him time to get to her before she started screaming. And he knew she would.

She sat very still, only her mouth moving as it tried to decide what it should say next.

This whole scene reminded him of his childhood, when he'd creep up on butterflies as they perched atop tall sunflower plants waving in the breeze. One false move, and the butterfly would take off, fluttering madly in the summer wind.

If not for the seriousness of his present situation, it would almost be funny. He couldn't afford to scare her too much, or she'd go fluttering away herself, alerting her staff to what he'd done before he had a chance to explain himself.

Surprisingly, she let him get about three feet from her before she shoved her chair back and stood up, her hand going to her hip for a gun that (luckily for him) wasn't there.

"Stop right there," she said, her voice trembling. "I mean it."

Time to make his move, and hope to god she didn't bonk him with something. He stopped and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, then reached up and peeled the bandana off his head.

A frown of confusion crossed her face. He dropped the bandana on the table, then reached up and very slowly removed his sunglasses, laying them on the table as well.

The woman's face went blank for a second - then her eyes flew open wide and began the frantic side-to-side movement that almost always preceded a good loud scream.

He leaped forward, clamping one hand over her mouth and using the other to grab and hold her small wrists. Shoving her back against the wall, he held her there with his big body as she started to struggle, her scream muffled by his hand. He held on and let her fight, waiting for her to tire herself out.

Finally, she relaxed and sagged against him helplessly, tears dripping onto the hand that covered the bottom half of her face. His eyes never left hers.

"Shhh, be still, be still..." he murmured.  


The sound of his voice set her off, and once again he endured a round of desperate bucking and writhing. He spoke again only when she was quiet.

"It's me. It's me. Shhh. Listen to me. Calm down, and I'll explain everything, okay?"

Her tears flowed more heavily, and she sobbed a little behind his big hand.

He tried again.

"Look at me. Look at me."

He shook her gently. She settled down a bit, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. If he let go now, she'd still scream and run. As far as she was concerned, she was looking at a bona fide ghost.

"Look closely," he continued, keeping his voice low and soothing. "There must be somethin' you can find that'll tell you it's really me. Look for it, c'mon." He gave her another shake.

Her eyes drifted away from his and ran hesitantly over his face, her body shaking uncontrollably against him.

"That's it, baby, c'mon," he said encouragingly. "You can find somethin', just keep lookin'."

She examined every inch of his face several times, finally coming to rest on a spot somewhere above his right eye.

"Find somethin'?" he asked her softly.

She nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on whatever she'd discovered.

"Okay. If I let go of your mouth, promise not to scream?"

She looked into his eyes and hesitated, then nodded again.

"Good. Now I'm gonna let go, and you're gonna tell me what you see."

Another shaky nod.

Slowly, he eased the pressure on her mouth, then took his hand down.

"Well?"

She swallowed and cleared her throat. "Um..." was all she could manage.

"C'mon, tell me. What d'you see?"

She swallowed hard again and opened her mouth.

"Birthmark," she said in a croaky whisper.

"Where?"

She leaned her head forward and aimed her eyes at the spot she'd been staring at earlier.

"There," she croaked weakly, her voice threatening to give out. "Um..." She sniffed and cleared her throat again. "Brown spot, just inside your hairline."

He nodded approvingly.

"Good, good. Now, if I let go of your hands, will you stay put?"

"Yeah," she sniffled.

"Okay," he said warningly. "But if you try to run, I'll have to hold you down again."

"I won't."

He released her wrists, and she rubbed them where he'd been squeezing. Just to be safe, he placed his hands on the wall on either side of her in case she decided to run.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked softly.

"A little." She rubbed some more, then stopped and looked up at him. "They told me you were dead."

"I know."

A little sob escaped her. "But why? Why would they do that?"

"They had to." He heaved a big sigh and leaned his forehead against hers. "I wanna tell you everything, but I can't do it here. Where's your room?"

"Upstairs."

"Can we get up there without being seen?"

"Yeah, if we take the back way from my office." She sniffed again and wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"Which way?"

She raised one hand and pointed shakily to her left.

He took her hand and pulled her away from the wall. She followed hesitantly, cutting her eyes nervously in the direction of the dining room, where Nina and Perry were still busy readying breakfast for the workers.

He stopped and turned to face her, holding her by the shoulders.

"Please don't."

She flinched when he ran his hand over her hair.

"Don't call 'em. Not without givin' me a chance to explain."

Without warning, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her face towards him, kissing her firmly. His heart leapt when he felt her melt against him, felt her lips open and mold themselves to his. When he pulled back, her eyes were full of light.

"You remember that, dontcha?" he smiled.

She smiled weakly and nodded. Looked like she was starting to believe him. He let her go and took her hand again.

"You lead the way."

Drawing him carefully towards the hallway, she leaned out to check for people, then pulled him down it and to her office in the back, where she'd picked up her portable computer earlier. They crossed the room to a door in the corner, which opened to reveal a narrow stone staircase.

The door at the top opened onto a spacious upstairs balcony from which they could look straight down to the first floor. She tugged him along to a door at the far corner, at the front of the house, and led him into her room.

He closed the door behind them and let go of her hand.

She circled the large room a few times, staring at the floor, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

He let her. There was a lot to deal with here, and she needed to collect her thoughts.

Finally, she came to a stop, her arms still wrapped protectively around herself. She looked him up and down several times, taking in every detail, then sat down heavily on the end of her bed.

"It really is you, isn't it."

Her words were a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, it's really me."

He waited as she nodded and looked back down at the floor. He wanted to go to her, wanted it badly, but right now he had to wait. She had to do the reaching out on her own. If he pushed her too far too soon, they didn't stand a chance.

A long moment dragged by as she sat there silently, staring at her boots. He could only imagine what was going through her mind right now.

Maybe she thought he'd betrayed her somehow.

Maybe she thought he was an imposter after her money.

Whatever the case, he'd know in a few minutes - but the wait was killing him. It hurt almost as badly as watching on a grainy monitor as she went nuts, pounding the walls of the visitor's reception room when the detached voices on the speaker told her he was dead.

 _Killed while trying to escape_ , they said.

Exactly as he'd asked them to.

One hour after three guards dragged her weeping out the front of the building, he allowed himself to be led, in restraints, out the back and onto a military transport. That was the last he'd seen of any civilized world until arriving on New Mecca three weeks ago.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself back into the present, made himself focus on the woman in front of him. She was still looking at the floor, but her shoulders had started shaking. One of her hands came up and covered her mouth as her weeping grew more pronounced. His hands balled into fists at his sides.

 _Wait for her, wait for her,_ he warned himself. _You've waited four years, you can wait a few more minutes. Don't blow this, you asshole._

At last, she broke down. Her overwrought heart and mind, unable to process what she saw before her, simply gave out and sent her sliding off the edge of the bed and onto her knees, where she crumpled into a tiny ball on the floor. Her sobs raged through her like a storm, lifting her body up and throwing it down again as her hands grasped blindly at the bare stone.

It was too much for him. He gave in and went to her, falling to his knees and gathering her up as he would a child, rocking wordlessly back and forth as she wept into his massive chest. She clutched and twisted handfuls of his shirt as years of pain, rage and desolation poured out of her.

It was a good long while before she cried herself out and lay quietly against him, her face buried in his shirt as she glutted herself on his warmth like a starving person.

He was hungry, too. He couldn't get enough of the smell of her hair, the feel of her breath on him, her weight draped over his lap. His fingers found and traced the single silky braid that hung down her back.

 _Really here, really here,_ he told himself over and over as he rocked her gently. _She's really here, and I'm really touching her..._

He closed his eyes and remembered his fingertips resting on glass, following her image around the monitor screen as she darted here and there in the small metal room, beating the walls and screaming his name repeatedly. Her voice came to him over speakers in the walls of the monitoring station.

They'd allowed him there as part of their agreement - he had to make sure they really told her. They did.

Her tortured screams had echoed in his head ever since, waking him in the night, haunting every step he took. And now he held this broken woman, knowing he was the only one who could put her back together.

 _She's not the only one who's broken,_ he reminded himself.

The sound of her voice pulled him out of his memories. He stopped rocking and let the joy wash over him like a warm ocean wave as he heard, for the first time in four years, his name on her lips.

"Riddick."


	3. Reconnection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick reveals part of his recent past to explain the long separation from the one he loves.

Riddick sat still and held her, saying nothing, until she lifted her head to look at him, then up at the ceiling with a little laugh that was almost a sob as she sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"God, I must look horrible." She sniffed hard and rubbed her eyes some more. "I need to blow my nose.”

She raised herself to her feet, carefully and shakily, using Riddick's shoulders for support.

He got up and stood next to her as she coughed and smoothed tendrils of hair out of her red, swollen face.

"Bathroom's over there." She indicated a door in the corner of the bedroom and headed towards it, still wiping at her eyes.

Riddick followed. He watched as she rinsed her face in the sink and blew her nose a few times, then poked at her hair with a brush.

She leaned forward to examine her puffy eyes and red nose. "First time you see me in four years, and this is how I look. It just fucking figures..."

"You're beautiful," Riddick said softly.

She turned to face him with an awkward, lopsided little smile and sniffed again.

"You need eye surgery," she laughed. Suddenly, her face went serious, and she moved closer to Riddick, staring at his eyes. "You _did_ have eye surgery," she breathed, reaching up hesitantly to touch his face. "You had the shine job reversed."

"Yeah." Riddick laid his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers. “Hurt like a son of a bitch. I was practically blind for months, til I healed up enough to go outside." He moved her hand to his lips and gently kissed the tips of her fingers. "But it was worth it."

She frowned and shook her head. "But why'd you do it? Why go through all that pain again? You could've been blinded for life."

Riddick ran his eyes hungrily over her face, taking in everything for a moment before he answered.

"I wanted to see you," he said simply. "Just once, I wanted to really see you."

He reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping her up in his arms and burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. Her arms came up and coiled around his neck as tightly as she could make them.

After a minute, she pulled back, brushing wetness off her cheeks. "Now look, you got me started again."

Riddick kept his arms closed around her, and leaned his forehead down to touch hers. Their eyes met and held for a long moment.

"Do they hurt now?" she whispered.

"No," he smiled. "Not anymore."

"How long has it been?"

"Little over a year."

Riddick raised a hand to cradle the back of her neck.

"So brown's your natural color?"

"Yeah."

She frowned a little as she looked closely as his left eye.

"Is that little blue spot natural too?"

Riddick shook his head. "Nah. Side effect of the surgery. Sometimes it strips some color outta your eyes. I got lucky, had a good doctor, so I didn't lose much." He gave her neck a gentle squeeze. "You like it?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Riddick let go of her and cupped her face in his hands. "You're so much more beautiful than I imagined," he whispered. "Just can't stop lookin' at ya."

More tears spilled down her face as she gazed back at him, her expression growing suddenly sober.

"Why'd they tell me you were dead?"

Riddick closed his eyes and heaved a big sigh, a pained look crossing his face. He bit his lip and looked at her again, wondering how to begin.

"Riddick?" she pressed, taking his hands down. "They knew you were alive, didn't they? They had to know."

He nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Why?" She threw up her hands. "Why would they lie to me like that?"

"I told 'em to."

She blanched, and her face went blank for a moment, as it had in the kitchen when she'd first recognized him.

 "You WHAT?"

She started backing away from him, shaking her head. "I don't believe this...I don't believe this..." she whispered as she moved.

"Listen to me, I had to do it - " Riddick began.

"How could you?" she hissed. "How could you?" She advanced on him, getting right up in his face. "How could you do that to me?"

She shoved him hard in the middle of his chest.

"What were you thinking?" Her voice was raised now. "Running around out there doing God knows what, while I cried my eyes out every goddamn night... do you have _any_ idea what the past four years has been like for me?"

Riddick grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard.

"You know what it's been like for _me?_ " He growled through clenched teeth, shocking her into silence. He released her and shoved her roughly away from him. "You think I _wanted_ to do it?"

Riddick's fists opened and closed, his chest heaved with his rapid breathing as she stood before him, still stunned.

"Then why? TELL ME WHY!" she shouted at him.

"I WILL!” he shouted back. "I will, if you'll just calm the fuck down and listen!"

Squeezing her eyes shut, she clapped her hands onto the top of her head and stood still, breathing deeply. When she'd steadied herself, she lowered her hands and leaned back against the counter.

"Okay," she breathed, opening her eyes to look at Riddick. "Tell me."

Riddick walked over to face her, leaning his back against the opposite wall and blowing out a breath. He stared at the floor for a long time before he started talking again. She waited tensely, her knuckles white from her tight grip on the edge of the counter.

"They were gonna hold all of you," he said quietly, his eyes still downcast. "They struck gold with us, y'know. A prosecutor's dream come true. They had me, o' course..." He gave a sarcastic little laugh. "Then they had two other adults to throw the book at for aiding and abetting, corrupting a minor and harboring a fugitive, plus one underage ward o' the state."

He looked up to find her watching him intently.

"I tried to tell 'em you didn't do anything. I told 'em it was my show all the way, and you three were too scared to cross me."  Another little laugh. "'Course, they didn't buy it. So I cut a deal."

She regarded him silently, turning over in her mind what he'd just told her.

"Deal?" she finally said. "What kind of deal?"

"Pretty simple, really. I say what they want, go where they want, do what they want, and they let all o' you go. With certain conditions."

"What conditions?" She reached up and wiped away a stray tear.

"All charges dropped, for starters. And a legal statement of adoption." Riddick raised his arms and looked around him. "And this. The land."

" _You_ did this?" Her tone was incredulous. "You got them to grant a claim this size?"

"Couldn't have you guys livin' in the streets." He let his arms fall.

"Believe me, it was no big deal for them. Colony world like this one, whole continents waitin' to be settled - this was a drop in the bucket. Plus,” he shrugged, “they figured they were cuttin’ their losses by stickin’ you out here in the middle o’ nowhere, on some o’ the worst land they could find – land they thought no one else would want.”

"And, uh..." her voice wavered a bit. "The cash? That too?"

Riddick nodded. “You needed somethin' to start over with. Trust me, it was a bargain, 'specially considerin' what they got in return."

"Which was?" She swallowed hard, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

He went very still, his face hardening and his jaw flexing as he looked back down. "You don't wanna know."

She watched him for a moment, then sighed and looked down too. "No, I guess I don't."

"Doesn't matter anyway. It's done. And I'm here."

Riddick pushed off from the wall and went to her, running his hands down her arms and pulling her to her feet. He tilted her head back and kissed her tenderly.

"All I've thought about for four years is gettin' back here and findin' you."

She searched his face, her eyes tinged with hope. "So they're done with you? Really done? They let you go?"

"Well..." Riddick answered slowly. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?" She pushed him away from her. "You broke out, didn't you?"

"Sorta." Riddick shrugged.

She laid her hands over her face and rubbed hard, then pulled them away and fixed Riddick with a hard stare.

"Look - don't fuck with me, ok? The last thing I need is the authorities crashing in here looking for you."

Riddick shook his head and smiled. "They won't."

"How do you know?"

Riddick's face spread into a mischievous grin that, considering the circumstances, seemed very out of place. "You're gonna kill me if I tell ya."

"Please don't do this to me..." she whispered, closing her eyes.

"You sure you wanna know?" Riddick's grin grew wider.

"Riddick!" She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

"Ok, ok..." He raised his hands in surrender. "You asked for it."

"Will you please just - "

She was quickly losing patience with his sudden and unseemly good humor.

"They think I'm dead, ok?" Riddick slowly lowered his hands. "They think I'm dead."

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath, and her eyes got very big.

"They think you're..."

"That's right."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." She waved her hands at him.

"That still doesn't explain why you had them tell me the same thing four years ago. Why would you want me to think you were dead?"

Riddick grew serious again.

"It was the stuff they wanted me to do," he said quietly. "Stuff no one expected me to live through. I didn't want you to waste your life waitin' for a dead man, so I went ahead and killed myself off."

"But..." she shook her head helplessly, unable to continue.

Riddick laid a finger on her lips.

"It was the best thing for everyone, includin' me. You guys had the money and the land, and a whole new life ahead o' you. I felt a lot better about dyin' when I knew you were taken care of."

He cupped her face in his hand and watched a single tear roll down her cheek and onto his thumb.

"You were so young and beautiful and healthy. You still are. How could I expect you to put everything on hold for a guy you'd prob'ly never see again?"

"I would have." Her voice trembled with the threat of more tears.

"I know." Riddick nodded as he stroked her face. "That's why I had to let you go."

She lunged forward and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.

"Don't you dare try that now," she whispered fiercely. "Don't you dare let me go again."

Riddick could see himself in the mirror over the sink as he folded her up in his arms and held on.

"I won't," he said firmly, fixing his reflection with a determined stare. "I'll never let go. I promise."

Her arms tightened around him for a second, then she pulled back to look at him.

"You're stuck with me, mister, promise or not. You know that, don't you?" She smiled up at him, all doubt gone from her eyes.

"No way you're gettin' rid o’ me now."

"Why would I want to?"

Riddick let his face relax into a big smile as he touched her hair.

"Hey." She grabbed his hand and turned it back and forth, examining it. "You're bleeding."

Riddick looked at the wound and shrugged. "Hm. Musta cut myself on somethin' outside."

He stepped past her to the sink and washed his hands. When he finished, he turned around to find her waiting with a small towel and a container of synthaskin, which she applied after drying him off.

"There," she said, patting his hand. "All better."

"Thanks."

He flexed his injured hand, watching as the synthaskin warmed up and molded itself to him. When he looked up, she was watching him with a hesitant expression, as if she wanted to say something.

"What?"

"Um...well..." Her hands clasped and unclasped nervously as she searched for words. "While you were gone..."

She looked down and blushed.

"While I was gone..." he prompted. "Go ahead."

"Well, was there ever... anyone else?" She glanced up at him, then back down again. "I mean, it's not really my business or anything, I just wondered, you know..."

She shrugged, embarrassed.

"'Course it's your goddamn business." He leaned on the counter with one hand. "You wanna know if I fucked anybody."

She glanced up and nodded quickly.

"No."

Her startled expression was almost funny. "Are you serious? In four years, you never... had sex? Not even once?"

Riddick shook his head. "Nope. What's the point, when I'd just be pretendin' it was you?"

He took his hand off the counter and stepped closer to her. "If you want the whole truth, I did pay an occasional whore to suck me off when I had the cash."

She blushed furiously and looked down again.

"What can I say - I have needs I can't ignore. But to answer your question - no, I never fucked anybody." He raised her chin until their eyes met. "What about you?"

"No." She held his gaze steadily. "Never."

"And you thought I was dead, too." He shook his head in amazement. "What were you gonna do, spend the rest o' your life without a man in your bed?"

"What's the point," she said, her eyes filling with light again, "When I'd just be pretending it was you?"

They stood inches apart now. Riddick's hands trembled as he touched her hair, her face, her mouth. When he spoke again, his whispered words trembled too.

"We don't have to pretend anymore."


End file.
